Whenever seasons like the one the Knicks just completed end, I always find myself back outside the visiting locker room at old Mile High Stadium. I always find myself standing with a handful of writers surrounding Bill Parcells maybe half an hour after the Jets lost the AFC Championship game to the Broncos.
The date was Jan. 17, 1999. The Jets had taken a 10-0 lead at altitude against the defending Super Bowl champs, and they seemed primed to write another chapter in a season in which they’d done nothing but surprise and delight their fans.
They didn’t finish the deal. Ten-nothing to the good ended 23-10 to the bad. And it wasn’t just the turnaround and the resulting disappointment in the dressing room that was jarring, it was Parcells.
“I’m exhausted, fellas,” he whispered.
And he wasn’t lying.
All the color had drained from his face. All the life had escaped his slumped shoulders. He leaned against a wall, and it seemed like that was the only thing that kept him from slipping to the floor. Parcells was 57 years old that early evening in Denver. He looked 87. Careening toward 97.
And it wasn’t just the shattering buzzkill of what had already happened that weighed on him. It was acknowledging all that lay ahead.
“You realize just how much work you have to go through just to get right back to where we are right now,” Parcells finally said. “Free agency. The draft. Voluntary workouts. Training camp. Sixteen games. All of it. Just to get back. Just to get right back to where we’re standing right now.”
He wiped his face.
“I’m exhausted,” he said.
And you understand. That’s the hardest part when a season ends for a team that has generated and engendered so much goodwill. There is the basic disappointment that a championship wasn’t won. But almost immediately there is a reminder that there is no guarantee this won’t be as good as it gets for a while.
Some teams make that final leap. You can state what a fair amount of certainty that the 1996 Yankees who ended an 18-year championship drought were truly born on the plane ride home from Seattle the previous October, the team lamenting a heartbreaking series loss but immediately resolving to move forward and take the final steps necessary. They did that.
The ’86 Giants were good enough that maybe they didn’t need the crushing disappointment of Soldier Field in January of that year to motivate them. Yet it was that 21-0 to the Super-Bowl-Shuffle Bears, with Sean Landeta’s whiffed punt as the forgettable centerpiece, that seemed to fuel them all the way through 17-2 and a glorious day in Pasadena.
And the 1970 Knicks had to endure a two-year internship playing title-tested teams tough — the Wilt Chamberlain 76ers followed by the Bill Russell Celtics — before they were hardened, about to make the climb themselves. There are others.
But just as often we have those 1999 Jets, who weren’t ever allowed to ponder the next step after Vinny Testaverde’s Achilles exploded. We have the 2015 Mets, who never quite recovered from being steamrolled by the Royals in the World Series. We have the 2021 Islanders, who pushed the Lightning to Game 7 of the East final and lost a 1-0 gut punch and have since been unable to rally in quite the same way.
There are other examples of that, too.
These Knicks can go either way. In a few years we may look at this is a brutal but necessary building block on the way to a championship. Maybe next year everyone stays healthy. Maybe next year it’ll be another city dealing with the virus of “what-if.” Maybe next year — or the year after that — this can all culminate in a parade.
Or …
Well, you know all the things that can go wrong. You’ve seen all the things that can go wrong. And just getting to where the Knicks were at 3:35 p.m. last Sunday — playing for a berth in the East finals — so much has to happen first. Free agency. The draft. Offseason workouts. Training camp. Eight-two games. Another first-round playoff war. All of it. Just to get back. Just to get right back to where they were standing right now last Sunday at 3:35 p.m.
Vac’s Whacks
Listening to Boston fans, it seemed like Alex Verdugo was responsible for every bad thing that’s happened in Boston lately short of the Kristaps Porzingis injury. But all Verdugo seems to do with the Yankees is find ways, big and small, to help them win every day.
“Blue Bloods” is still excellent, it still draws a nice audience for CBS, and it has cast members who still want to keep doing the show beyond next fall despite absorbing salary cuts. What am I missing here? And when is CBS going to wisen up and change its mind?
Somehow we’ve made it this far without one city winning the NBA and NHL titles in the same year. The sports gods are really in on a sick joke if they allow Dallas to be the first city to do that this year.
Every year we get a game or two like Rangers-Panthers on Friday night to remind us that playoff hockey — specifically overtime playoff hockey — is as terrific and as terrifying as sports is allowed to get.
Whack Back at Vac
Peter Drago: This week astronomers showed the first images at the edge of a black hole. Unverified reports showed a Mets cap headed towards the hole with the 11-game home stand against three top teams looming.
Vac: As you might imagine I’ve gotten a few Metsapocalypse correspondence this week. This sums them all up nicely.
Richard Siegelman: The NCAA will soon be paying $12.8 billion to 14,000 current and former athletes, and I’m so excited. How much will they pay me for winning consecutive free-throw championships at Harpur College in 1964-65? Since I only missed one out of 40 shots, I suggest $1,000 each for the 39 shots I made.
Vac: And I wrote some fine deadline stories on the Bonnies in my day. I’ll go with $2 a word.
@AuthorHarlow: You called the Mets an “unvarnished disaster”; are they still “unvarnished” since they get “shellacked” most games?
@MikeVacc: From dreadful baseball seasons does fine-tuned comedy flow!
Robert Feurstein: It’s sure a treat to watch Judge, Soto and Stanton mash homers, especially after last year’s dismal offensive performance. Not quite Mantle, Maris and Skowron, but boy does it give us a reason to let our minds wander back to ’61.
Vac: It’s the Stanton piece of this that makes it so exciting to watch every day. After a while Yu Darvish looked like he just didn’t want to throw a baseball any more the other night.
